


can't get you close enough

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, F/M, Mild Language, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 09:43:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16830112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: After a hunt goes wrong, you and Dean fight. Switches POV between Dean and the reader.





	can't get you close enough

The car ride back to the bunker is silent. 

You’re practically vibrating with anger, your leg bouncing restlessly as you stare at the scenery flying past the windows. Sam keeps glancing at you warily, but you don’t meet his eyes. He’s too understanding, too aware of the other feelings that are playing a role in your anger. 

The hunt went bad. It happens, occasionally. No one died, and you ended up ganking the ghost that was haunting a family north of Lebanon. You have a few scrapes and scratches, but it was worth it, when you were able to save a little boy and girl and get them safely back to their parents.

Dean didn’t agree. Sure, you saw the relief in his eyes when the whole thing was over, but it wasn’t long until he tore into you. You were angry at him, and embarrassed. He didn’t even wait until you were out of earshot of the Hughes family before he started telling you you acted like an amateur. 

When you finally pull into the garage at the bunker, you’re out the door of the Impala practically before Dean puts it into park. 

He says your name as he opens the driver’s side door, and you take a deep breath, trying not to fly off the handle. “Dean, don’t.” You shake your head. “I am so fucking mad at you right now and I really don’t want to say anything I’m gonna regret later.” 

“Are you kidding me?” He asks, his face incredulous. “You’re the one who–”

“ _Dean_.” Sam’s voice is sharp, his eyes not straying from your form as your breathing speeds up. He knows the signs of a panic attack when he sees one. 

“Don’t ‘ _Dean’_ me, Sam.” Dean says, his voice low and dangerous. “If we got there even a _minute_ later than we did, she’d be dead.”

“ _She_ can hear you.” You say through gritted teeth. “ _She_ is the one who figured out what we were even hunting in the first place, and _she_ is the one who saved Michael and Allie’s lives!” 

Dean’s eyes flash. “And _she_ is also the one who got thrown head first into a fucking brick wall!” He gets out of the car the rest of the way and practically slams the door shut, making you jump. “You’re so goddamn reckless! Sometimes I don’t know why you insist on hunting with us if all you’re trying to do is give me a heart attack before I’m forty!” 

You reel back as if you’ve been slapped. You feel like you can’t get enough air into your lungs and you wonder if the sound of your heart breaking is loud enough for Sam and Dean to hear it. 

Dean watches your face and you can see the fight drain out of him when his words sink in. He reaches for you, and his face crumples when you hastily back away. “Kid–”

“ _Don’t_.” You say, your voice unsteady. You turn on your heels as quick as you can and practically sprint into the bunker.

.

Dean watches you go, guilt and regret churning in his stomach. “Fuck.” He mutters, and Sam turns to him, glaring.

“What the hell did you say that for?” 

Dean doesn’t answer. Hell, he doesn’t have any idea what to say. He just keeps replaying the moment in his mind when he broke down the door of the kids’ bedroom and saw you meet his eyes for a half second before the spirit materialized, sending you flying against the wall, where you hit the brick with a sickening crunch. 

He swears in that moment, his heart seized in his chest and didn’t beat again until he saw you move your legs, groaning as you struggled to your feet. 

Now, in the garage, he feels the same way, knowing that this could be the thing that finally drives you away for good.

“You better apologize before tonight is over. She didn’t deserve that, dude.” Sam says angrily. “I’m going to go make sure she’s not packing a bag or something.”

“I didn’t mean…” Dean starts, his hands falling uselessly at his sides. “I didn’t mean what I said.” 

Sam sighs. “I know that. I’m not sure she does.” 

Dean waits an hour before he seeks you out. He feels restless, and the painful twisting in his gut when he remembers your face as he yelled at you pushes him forward towards your bedroom.

He hesitates before knocking, rolling his eyes at himself. 

“Go away, Sam.” Your voice comes filtering through the door, sounding choked and tired. 

“Not Sam.” 

Silence. He’s about to give up before he hears footsteps, and when you open the door, he almost wishes you hadn’t. The look on your face _breaks_ him. 

Your eyes are red and puffy, your hair mussed like you’ve been pulling at it. You’re swamped in an oversized sweatshirt and leggings, and you won’t meet his eyes.

That’s the worst part, he thinks. You’ve never been afraid of him, before. He hates himself for this. 

“Can I come in?” 

You shrug. “I guess.” Your voice is hoarse and cracks a little. He watches as your free hand shakes, just a little. Another crack in his heart.

He comes in, sitting on the edge of the bed. After a minute, you sit next to him, carefully making sure you don’t touch. “I’m really fucking sorry, kid.” Dean says, the words leaving him on an exhale. You don’t respond, and he feels even worse.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” You tell him, finally. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I did my _job_.” You say, your voice trembling again. 

“You got hurt.” Dean says, feeling sick again as he replays the scene in his mind. “You could have been killed.” 

You stand, pacing away from him. “What was I supposed to do? Wait around for you guys and hope that you found the answers we needed?” Your hands fall to your hips, and for a split second, Dean has to admire the fire in your eyes. “I was not going to let those kids get hurt.” 

“If we were two minutes later–”

“You _weren’t_ , though, Dean! You got there in time, like you always do! You have never reacted when it’s been you and I making a last minute rescue for Sam.” 

Dean’s control is fraying, and he has to force his words to come out calm. “It’s different when it’s Sam.”

.

“ _Why_?” You cry, at a complete loss. You’re embarrassed to feel a few hot tears slide out of your eyes, but you brush them away hurriedly. 

“God _dammit_ , kid.” Dean grits out, taking a large stride towards you before he stops himself. “Just thinking about losing you makes me feel like my heart’s bein’ ripped out.” 

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

He continues, chest heaving, green eyes ablaze. “I can’t _breathe_ when I go out to hunt with you. Not from the minute we start until we gank whatever son of a bitch we’re hunting.” 

“Dean–”

“If I lose you, I don’t know what the fuck would happen to me.” He says, his voice hoarse. “I swear to God, I’d lose my fuckin’ mind, kid.” He takes a few more steps to close the remaining distance between you until the tips of his boots are touching yours. “I have lost _everything._ I can’t lose you too. I won’t.” He says it firmly, with conviction. 

The look in his eyes makes up your mind for you, and you surge forward, hands cradling his face as you press your lips to his. 

He responds instantly, his hands finding your waist and his mouth opening under yours on a groan. You press yourself tight against him, the emotions of the day clouding your thoughts and leaving you in a blur of feelings. You’re still angry with him, and exhausted from your near-panic attack earlier, but mostly you’re relieved. 

Relieved because you don’t want to hide what you feel for Dean anymore. Relieved that his anger with you comes from a place of caring and affection. It’s more than you ever hoped for.

Dean bends down suddenly, his arms going behind your knees as he hoists you up, urging you to wrap your legs around his hips. He takes a few steps forward until you’re pressed against your bedroom door, and Dean moves his kisses from your mouth to your jaw and neck, causing your eyes to almost roll back in your head as his scruff scratches at your sensitive skin.

Without thinking, you roll your hips against him, and he breaks away with a grunt. “Fuck _me_.” He mutters, his eyes dark as he stares at you. “You gotta tell me now if you don’t want this.” He says, and you’re already shaking your head as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“I want you, Dean. But I need you to promise me something first.” 

He looks wary, but he nods. 

“Don’t sideline me anymore. We have to talk these things out and work together.”

Dean drops his forehead to your neck, nodding. “I’ll try. I swear, I’m going to try, but baby…” He takes a deep breath, and the term of endearment causes a shudder to roll through you. “I can’t promise you I’m not going to be upset when you get hurt. You have to be careful. Please.” 

“I promise if you do.” You say softly, kissing his brow. 

“I promise.” He murmurs. When he meets your eyes again, the look in his eyes is softer than you can ever remember him looking at you, at least not when you were looking back, anyway. 

He kisses you again, slow and fiery, and the pace builds between the two of you again as he pulls off your shirt and bra, his mouth wreaking havoc on the sensitive skin of your chest. You get rid of his shirt, too, and start working on his belt. 

“You have no idea what you do to me.” Dean groans when your knuckles brush his hardness through his jeans. “Drivin’ me crazy.” He says, his words shaky and strained. 

The next few minutes are a blur of hands and tongues and teeth, and soon you’re both naked, Dean’s muscles rippling and twitching under your hands as you lightly scratch down his back. 

Dean leans forward right as he enters you, lips pressing lightly to your cheeks, where you’re sure you still have tear stains. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, watching you as your mouth falls open at the pleasure of finally having him seated so deep inside you. “I hate myself for making you upset.” 

“Dean.” You gasp. “I’m okay, I promise.”

“Let me make you feel good. I can make it so good for you, I promise. Let me make it up to you, sweetheart.” He’s almost babbling now, and his words make you whimper and tighten around him, causing him to let out a low groan against the skin of your neck. 

“Dean, please.”

He goes slow, but his thrusts are so hard and so deep that they have you seeing stars. “You feel so fucking good.” He tells you. 

You groan, head tilting back until it hits the door behind you. “I’m so close, Dean. Please, I want you to come with me.” You tell him, and his eyes snap open, his thrusts picking up speed. 

The sound of your harsh pants and thrusts fill the room until you’re right there on the edge, and Dean’s hand slides up your chest, resting at the base of your neck. You meet his eyes, and the look you see there floors you. 

“I’m so fuckin’ in love with you.” Dean admits, groaning out the words. “You’re so perfect. You feel so perfect.”

His words send you spiraling, and you can’t even say the words back to him, your orgasm washing over you and leaving you breathless. 

After a few seconds, he lowers you back down to the ground. “You okay?” He asks, and you nod, smiling softly at him. 

“I’m great.” 

“Don’t sound so smug.” He says, but his lips are tilted upwards in a small grin. 

“Hey, Dean?” You ask, and he looks up, a light flush on his cheeks. “I’m pretty fucking in love with you too.” You tell him, and the grin that stretches slowly across his face you think is one that’s going to stay imprinted in your memory for the rest of your life.


End file.
